A Triangle has Three Points
by Johnlockt
Summary: Chakotay, Tom and Harry are having a series of encounters. Told from alternating points of view. Slash, smut, implied drug/alcohol use, explicit prostitution, inappropriate use of the Holodeck and all the good stuff. Adult Content. Chakotay/Paris and Paris/Kim. Yes, that's right, both at the same time.
1. Chapter 1

A Triangle has Three Points

Chakotay, Tom and Harry are having a series of conversations. Told from alternating points of view.

_Disclaimer: This is unbeta-ed slashfic. This means that it contains characters owned by Paramount being used in unorthodox ways, possible copyright infringements, male/male sex implicit or explicit, and questionable punctuation. If any of the above offend you, read no further! You have been warned._

_Reviews and comments much appreciated! _

* * *

Chakotay:

We were in Sandrine's that night. Me, Dalby, Ayala and some of the other guys from the Maquis days were celebrating something or other. Really, the event was just an excuse to get together and drink, boast and knock each other around and pretend it still is those good old days. I know, I know, war is hell and Cardassians and death and the Cause and all that. But in all of that there was also some great times just being with the guys.

Anyway, we were reminiscing about really good fucks of the past. Dalby always starts these conversations, but Ayala always ends them. Ken likes to hear about sex in all its forms, but it is Greg who really has the weird crazy bat-shit stuff happen to him. Like that time he was approached by a hermaphrodite hooker who wanted pay him to do everything… He's that enigmatic, dark and handsome type that just presents a challenge to anything female, or even half-female in this case.

So I guess I wasn't talking enough to satisfy the guys, because Ken Dalby suddenly turns where I'm looking and catches me staring at Tom Paris' ass. Shit. He smiles a bit, then dares me to approach Tom Paris. I accept, not because of the dare but because, hell, I've wanted to do this for years. All that time in the Maquis when he was a pilot on my ship I had wanted to put the moves on him, but I thought I'd have longer. I couldn't believe it when he was captured on his first solo mission, leaving me with an empty bed full of regrets.

So this time around I didn't want to fuck it up again by waiting too long, so it didn't take much to push me into finally making a move. Besides, Tom has spent the whole evening wiggling his ass in my face as he pretends to take forever over each shot of the pool game he is supposed to be playing with Harry. He's playing badly, despite taking so long over each shot – could it be because he's posing for me more than he's concentrating on the game? Harry looks seriously pissed-off… or as seriously pissed-off as the perfect Starfleet Ensign ever does, anyway.

I saunter slowly over to Tom, giving him plenty of notice of my intentions and time to move away if he chooses. He doesn't. I front right up to him until we're standing almost chest to chest. He's a fraction taller than I am, but I'm broader so I think it comes out about even in the end.

He smiles at me and casually asks, "What can I do for you, Commander?" I lean in without speaking and kiss him – might as well make my intentions clear from the start. I lower my voice to speak more intimately in this rather public setting, "I've always thought we had some unfinished business between us from the Alpha Quadrant, you know. Let's go back to my quarters and discuss it."

Tom looks flushed and flustered. His eyes dart behind me to the rest of the guys still at their table, and I realize that they are murmuring supportively. Tom swallows and finally stammers, "Is this an order from the First Officer?"

I blink in surprise. Tom is practically Starfleet aristocracy, he knows that an order of that kind would be completely illegal. Still, if he wants to be clear that this is totally personal, I can reassure him on that score, "This has nothing to do with the First Officer. This is Chakotay from the old days talking now." I smile at him, remembering how I lusted after him before, but as the Captain I just never felt right about pressuring him into anything while he was working for me. With my eyes fixed on his kissable lips I remind him, "There's plenty more where that came from. So what's it gonna be?"

Harry has come up behind Tom, but apart from a quick look at him I don't want to be distracted. What is taking the man so long? Does he want me or not? This should not be a difficult question!

Finally, Tom makes up his mind, "Fine, let's take it back to your cabin, then." He gives Harry a barely audible, "Later," and he's mine, all mine!

I can't help it, a huge grin breaks out across my face. I put my hand possessively on the small of his back and steer him out of Sandrine's, to approving chuckles from the rest of the guys. They'll forgive me for not coming back to the table.

In the turbolift and as we walk to my quarters it's all I can do to stop myself from running my hands all over him, but I restrain myself to a few light touches. We have plenty of time. I keep contact with his back and shoulder with just my fingertips, and even that minute touch has me getting hard. I've waited years for this.

Once the doors of my quarters slide closed I can't wait any more. I press him against the closed door, my hand behind his head and kiss him, hard. His mouth opens softly under mine and I thrust into him with my tongue as I grind my hips against his. Unless I do something to take the edge off, this is going to be over far too quickly, so I force myself to back away from him for a moment. He takes a deep breath – I think our kisses are affecting him as much as they are me. I'm dizzy with a delicious mix of lust and anticipation. I steady myself by walking over to the replicator and getting myself a drink. Just water this time, I've had enough beer. I ask him if he wants anything, but he just shakes his head.

With a cold glass of water in my hand, I feel a bit more in control. I smile as I remember the first time I met Tom, back in the original Sandrine's. He was so beautiful then, well, he still is. But he took my breath away that first time, and he's had this power over me ever since. "Do you remember how we met?" I ask him.

His voice is low and husky as he replies, "Yeah." He closes his eyes for a moment in memory. I wonder if I affected him as strongly as he did me? We never had sex back then, though the Spirits know how much I wanted to. But he was going to be on my crew, and it would have been complicated.

Besides, he was fragile then. He'd been through a lot with his career crashed on Caldik Prime, his family lost to him and he was developing an unhealthy dependency on alcohol and was starting to experiment with drugs. He was thin to the point of emaciation. I pulled him out of the gutter, helped him clean up a bit and got him flying again. He's beautiful at the helm, it's like watching someone dance. I'm glad I could give that back to him.

Now, he's blossomed. Strong, tall, gorgeous enough to take my breath away. Captain Janeway has made a silk purse out of her 'reclamation project'. I joked with her about that once, but Tom was partly my project as well. I'm so proud of what he's become, and that I had a part in that. It is even more of a miracle that he wants to be here with me – I'm nearly old enough to be his father, well, if I got going *very*early. But he's here, and as I catch him up in my arms again, I can feel him trembling against me. I pick him up and carry him into the bedroom, where I plan to make love with him all night – make him feel so good that he'll never want to leave.

He's heavier than he used to be, and that's a very good thing. There's a nice amount of muscle on him too. I'm glad he's looking after himself – there was a time when he didn't, or couldn't. It seems funny to think this now, but back then I thought he was an introvert. In retrospect he was almost suicidally depressed. Now that he's happier, his natural high spirits have reasserted themselves. He's quiet at the moment though. I guess he's a little overwhelmed – I know I am. After years of exchanging glances across various ships, all our dreams are about to come true.

I look down at him lying here, really here in my bed. His eyes are closed and his kiss-bruised lips are soft and pouting. I think there might even be a trace of blood on his lips – I didn't think I kissed him that hard, but I might have. I've been holding everything back for too long. He open his eyes and looks up at me. His voice is shaking slightly with restrained passion as he says, "What are you waiting for? Come here and take me, already."

Suddenly, I can't wait any longer. I strip my clothes off and throw myself down on the bed next to him. He's naked too and finally we are skin against skin, full length against each other. I reach down and grasp his erection and he groans. I don't want this to be over too quickly, so I move back a little and look down at us, enjoying the view. His skin is a light creamy contrast to mine. His cock is slightly longer than mine but not nearly as thick, and it has a lovely upward curve to it. I want to suck it, but I think if I do I'll come on the spot. Later, we'll have a chance to do everything later. Right now, I want to be inside him.

I roll over onto my back, pulling him on top of me and he rolls with me. He's heavier than he was, but not too heavy for me. He settles astride my thighs and starts to wriggle backwards, kissing his way down my body. Spirits, I want to feel his mouth around me, but I want his body too – what a delicious dilemma!

After letting him lick me just enough to make me wet, I pull him up again until his hips are just above mine, almost in position. Shit. I just realized I don't have any lubricant. Still, he's made me pretty wet already, I think it will be OK. "Hey, I don't have any lubricant…" I wait for him to tell me that it's OK, that he wants me anyway.

He opens his eyes and looks down at me, "I've got a solution for that." He reaches down and strokes himself off so fast I hardly realize what is happening. He must have been excited to get there so fast. He comes with a deep breath and sigh, which wasn't exactly what I was hoping for. I'll make sure we take longer next time.

He reaches for my duranium-hard erection and covers me with his come. It is so exciting I can't wait, but fortunately I don't have to. He slides himself down onto me in one smooth motion. His eyes are closed as he moves up and down on me and I'm so wound up it only takes a few thrusts into the blood-hot channel of his body before I'm groaning and coming deep inside him.

He remains still for a moment, then lifts himself off me and heads for the shower. Somehow, I'm obscurely disappointed. We both came, it was good – but something was missing. Maybe it was too quick? Maybe I built it up in my mind too much? I don't know, it just wasn't what I expected. I had hoped he would want to cuddle afterwards and sleep the whole night with me, but apparently not.

He reappears out of the shower more quickly that I had thought possible, and he's even washed his hair. I smile at him, "Did you take a course in speed-showering?"

He blinks at me, not seeming to get the joke. "I think I'll head off now, if that's OK with you."

I'm disappointed, but I don't want to pressure him. "Sure. See you on the Bridge." He leaves before I have a chance to ask him about a repeat date.

The bed feels cold and lonely without him, but his scent is still on the pillows. I burrow into them and soon fall asleep.

* * *

Tom:

Harry and I had been together exactly six months that night in Sandrine's. We kept it pretty quiet – I had lots of reasons to want privacy and Harry is kind of shy. He's cute that way. Our relationship was the best thing that ever happened to me. Shit. Tell it like it is – my relationship with Harry was the only good one I've ever had. It was a real adult, give and take, best friends and lovers relationship. That's probably why I screwed it all up. That's the Tom Paris fuck-up recipe. Take something good, something real and healthy and introduce the Paris Factor and you can go straight to hell, no warp barrier involved.

Anyway, that night we were playing pool and flirting a little, in anticipation of the night ahead. Our usual kind of sweet and saucy flirting that Harry likes. Just a little daring, not too overt. He likes the thrill of danger but isn't really an exhibitionist. So we were doing a little fooling around with double entendres about "balls" and "sticks" and little winks and touches as we moved around the pool table.

Then Chakotay and a bunch of his bruisers came in. They were drinking real alcohol and talking and laughing real loud. Macho bullshit about conquering heroes and willing damsels, mostly. I bet more than half of it was made up on the spot. But I could feel myself tensing up and my game going to hell. I got so nervous every time I had to turn my back to them my hands were shaking and I was fucking up every shot, despite taking twice as long as usual to set them up. Something about those guys reminds me of the bad old days in Marseilles, in the Maquis, in Auckland. The days when I had to watch my back every second or find a knife in it. The days when I had to trade everything I had for an ounce of safety, sell myself for an hour of sleep under someone's protection. Harry's sweet loving has eased the pain of some of that, but he can't erase my memory, much as we both wish he could.

My instincts were on red alert, so I knew immediately the instant Chakotay approached me from behind. I whirled around to face the enemy and sure enough he came right up to me, practically snarling in my face as he invaded my personal space. Slow and intimidating, I was sweating before he got anywhere near me. The look in his eyes… I know I'm taller than he is, but when he's that close it sure doesn't feel like it. He's got twice my muscle and he knows how to fight dirty. I'd always privately thought that he could probably snap my spine with one hand, but I never let him know I was afraid of him – let them scent your fear and you're gone.

So I gave him my best confident grin and forcing my voice to sound casual I asked, "What can I do for you, Commander?" Hopefully using his rank will remind him that we are *not* on board a Maquis vessel now. The Captain won't stand for any strong-arm stand over tactics from the First Officer to a Lieutenant under her command. At least, I hope she won't.

But Chakotay doesn't answer my question, doesn't even think about answering it, the bastard. He just grabs the back of my neck and yanks my face down and plasters his hot mouth on mine. I can feel his erection against my hip and it's bloody clear that, for reasons of his own, he's decided that tonight's the night he's going to buy what I no longer want to sell. Sure enough, he reminds me of what I used to be when he first met me. The whore that I thought was left behind when Harry showed me that maybe I really could be loved for myself. But Chakotay has no such illusions. He knows what I was, what I always will be and he reminds me, as if I could ever forget.

"I've always thought we had some unfinished business between us from the Alpha Quadrant, you know. Let's go back to my quarters and discuss it."

Yeah, right. Somehow I don't think *discussion* is what is on his mind. Damn it, I can feel myself blushing with humiliation. Curse of my fair skin that it gives away my thoughts. When I don't capitulate immediately, I can hear the Maquis goon squad starting to growl behind Chakotay as they prepare to back him up, probably by pounding me a bit to soften me up for the main event.

I swallow, trying to moisten my throat before I speak, realizing that the silence has gone on too long. I have one last chance to remind him that this is Voyager. That he has rank and status here, that he doesn't need to do this to me to prove his dominance. "Is this an order from the First Officer?" Obviously, it isn't. Such an order would be totally inappropriate, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by propriety at the moment.

Sure enough, he smirks at me and confirms that we're not playing by Starfleet rules any more. This is an older, darker confrontation with no rules at all. "This has nothing to do with the First Officer. This is Chakotay from the old days talking now." Shit. That Chakotay was a dangerous killer. In the bad old days I was always careful never to let him alone with me, never to turn my back on him. He wanted me, and he would have got me in the end - I think we both knew that. I never knew whether it was good luck or bad that I got captured before any of that happened.

I remember the old Maquis discipline, the way Chakotay kept order with just his glare and his fists. He never had to space anyone to keep control of the crew, because they all knew from just the look in his eyes that he wouldn't even hesitate. Sure enough, he's thinking along the same lines, and he reminds me with a cold smile, "There's plenty more where that came from. So what's it gonna be?"

I am paralyzed. I can't go back there, I can't be that man again. I don't have the walls I did then, I'm too open. It would kill me. I feel Harry coming up behind me, standing next to me, warm at my side. I am just about to tell Chakotay to take a long walk out a nearby airlock, when he flicks his eyes meaningfully at Harry. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. The threat is clear – do as I say, be my fuck-toy or I will *break* your lover. I can't let that happen to Harry – he's the only good thing I've ever had. I'm soiled already by everything I've ever done, but at least I can protect him from that. I fold, as Chakotay knew I would.

"Fine, let's take it back to your cabin, then." I am the sacrificial goat so that Harry will, if all goes well, never know exactly what it was that I saved him from. I give Harry a weak smile of farewell and whisper to him, "Later." It's a promise, the only one I can give him, that whatever happens to me, whatever Chakotay does to me, that I will return to him.

Chakotay has a triumphant and vicious grin spread right across his face. Fucking bastard. But there's nothing I can do about it and they all know it. Shit. Talk about negotiating from a position of weakness. The Maquis practically roar their approval as Chakotay pushes me out of Sandrine's with his hard hand resting on my hip. I spare a moment for the thought that at least he waited until we were in the turbolift before groping my ass.

He keeps his hands on me all the way to his quarters. He doesn't need to do this to control me. Shit. He knows he owns me already. He's just enjoying his possession, warming up for the sex games ahead. I can feel the clammy heat everywhere his hands have been on me. Fuck. I *have* to pull myself together. I used to do this every day, well, every night. Come on, Tommy, switch your mind off and let him do whatever he wants to your body – you used to have the trick of that. But it has been so long, and I never thought I would have to do this again.

As soon as the door to his quarters hisses shut, I'm slammed up against it. He has his hand clenched in my hair, twisting so hard it brings tears to my eyes. His mouth is on mine again, hot and demanding. This time I'm resigned. I open my mouth and let him have whatever he wants. God. This is going to be worse than I thought. He wants to play rough.

Even when I was turning tricks I tried to avoid the really rough and kinky stuff. There are lots of ways to put a mark off without ever saying no. Some types are turned on by resistance so if you just lie down and whimper they're not interested. Other types want the dominance, so if you can show them they're the boss from the start they'll go easier. Sometimes just looking away at the right moment with a bored expression will cool their fires. The idea isn't to play hard to get – just to be a little less appealing than the guy down the street, to imply that you wouldn't be as much fun, or might take a little more work than the next hooker who actually likes that stuff. The problem here is that there *is* no "next" on this ship – I'm the only one available. Shit.

Anyway, he never gives me a chance to make any of those moves. Pulling away from me he forces himself to calm down. Another bad sign – he wants this to be slow and long, and probably painful. Still, I take the chance to gasp in a breath of fresh air as he turns his back on me and walks over to the replicator for a drink. He asks me if I want anything, but if I open my locked throat I'm not quite sure what will happen. I don't trust my voice at the moment and the last thing I need is to break down crying, so I just shake my head.

Once he's got his drink, for some reason he doesn't appear to be in a hurry to get back to me. He smiles at me, taunting me, exerting his power over me. His next words confirm it, "Do you remember how we met?"

"Yeah." Oh, God yeah. Of course I remember. I was turning tricks because with my Starfleet record blazoned across my forehead I couldn't get any piloting work. Everyone thought the crash was because I was drunk, not that I was a drunk because I crashed. Anyway, whether it was the chicken or the egg, by the time Chakotay met me I was a cheap whore with a number of nasty addictions. I was so far gone then that he didn't even want to have sex with me. He locked me in a room on his ship and forced me to go cold turkey from *everything*. I thought I was going to die – I *wanted* to die. But after it was over he washed me, dried me out and taught me to fly again. People on Voyager don't realize it or don't think about it much, but Chakotay is quite the pilot himself.

Anyway, he's kind of a father-figure to me. He made me, so it has a certain symmetry if he now chooses to return me to what I was then. God. I'd better not start thinking about my father on top of everything else or I really will be sick. I feel the nausea rising up as I think about what I'm going to do next. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths and the danger passes.

Never take your eyes off the mark. I should know better than that. Just proves that my self-preservation reflexes are shot to hell since I started living soft on Voyager. Thinking that the danger was left behind in the Alpha Quadrant. Fuck.

Next thing I know there are fingers digging into my arms and the back of my thigh as I'm picked up bodily and carried into the bedroom. I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming, crying, throwing up or any other inappropriate response. This is a critical time – if I do the wrong thing now it will be worse not just for me, but for Harry. If I get it right now, get things rolling the right way this could all be just a vicious nightmare about twenty minutes from now.

I feel myself being thrown onto the bed, and the bounce jolts my teeth all the way through my lip. As if I'm not going to be sore enough already. I force my eyes open to see what is in store for me next. Chakotay is staring at me as he slowly starts to unfasten his shirt. Oh God. If this is going to happen, let it be quick and let it be over. I try to keep my voice light and level, but I don't think it worked. The tremor is obvious as I say, "What are you waiting for? Come here and take me, already."

The bastard obviously gets off on my fear, because he cuts out the strip tease routine and just peels out of his clothes as fast as possible. Suits me. I do the same in rapid movements, making sure that all my clothes end up on the same side of the bed for efficiency of getting them back later. After this is over, the last thing I want to do is be searching all over his quarters for my socks while he stares at my ass.

There is one other aspect of "getting ready" which now comes up, so to speak. I'm so frightened I don't think I can get it up at all, but I know that this will be required as part of the show. I don't know if he will actually want me to come – he's the kind who gets off on torture so he might want to leave me unsatisfied, but I'll work that out closer to the end. But sure as hell, he will want me to be hard. Hell. There's only one way to do that, so I close my eyes and pray to anyone who is listening that Harry will forgive me as I think about him, imagine it is *his* hands on me as I stroke myself quickly to hardness under the cover of removing my pants.

I'm ready by the time he throws himself on top of me, hardly hitting the bed at all. Sure enough, the first thing he does is check that I'm up for some games. I can't hold back my moan of agony as the huge hand that engulfs me rips me straight out of my dream of Harry. Nothing could be more different from his delicate musician's hands as he plays me like his clarinet. There is nothing subtle about Chakotay's grasp on me. There's no give and take here, he's all heat and demands.

He moves away from me a little, and he's staring at me, at my body. Fuck, he's creeping me out. Can't we just get on with it and get it over? Obviously he agrees, as he rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him. Damn. I thought he was just going to fuck me and let me go, but it looks like he wants me to work him a bit more than that. I slide down his body and take his cock into my mouth. I'm pretty good at this – with a bit of luck he'll let me suck him off and that's be it. I might even be able to make him finish up before he realizes what's happening and after one of my blow jobs no-one's asked for their money back yet.

I lick all around the head of his enormous cock. I hope this doesn't take too long or my jaws are going to ache like hell. I tongue-fuck the slit and stroke my lips up and down the shaft. I play with his balls and am just about to deep-throat him when he pulls me back up towards his head. Shit. No getting out of this the easy way.

I keep some tension in my thighs so that he can't quite get me in position to fuck me. He'd better not be thinking about fucking me dry, that shit really hurts, for both people. He might get off on pain but I don't and I want to be able to walk tomorrow. The same thought must have crossed his mind because he frowns and says, "Hey, I don't have any lubricant…"

"I've got a solution for that." Perfect excuse for me to do what I've been wanting anyway, and it will help me relax for what is going to be a painful penetration. That thickness is a lot bigger than Harry and I haven't taken anything else up the ass for a while. I stroke myself and imagine it is Harry touching me and the mental trick does it. I'm relieved I was able to come so fast, and now it is time for the final act. Nearly done.

I slather Chakotay's erection with my come before it starts to dry and thicken. Not as good as proper lube, but a lot better than just saliva or nothing. I climb on top of him and guide him into me, ride him for a few thrusts – then it is over. Thank God! I hold still for a moment, letting him soften inside me, then I leap off and walk to the shower as quickly as I dare. The least he can do is let me use some of his water rations. Besides, I want to go back to Harry as soon as I can – God knows what he must be thinking. I don't want to go to him sweaty and smelling of Chakotay's come.

In the shower I scrub myself down quickly and wash my hair – that's where the smell of semen tends to linger. My skin is pink and tingling by the time I've finished, but I still don't feel like I'm completely clean. Fuck. How can I clean out my insides from the touching I've had? How can I clean my mind from the feeling that I've sold my body for protection? I'm a whore again. All the little tips and tricks I learned on the street are coming back. Damn, I thought all that was behind me. I really thought I could move on from who I was then, but I can't. Maybe the prostitute on the inside is who I really am. Shit.

When I come out of the bathroom Chakotay is smirking at me, and seems to be thinking about the training of prostitutes as well. "Did you take a course in speed-showering?" he asks. Asshole. I can't believe he said that. This whole encounter is tacky enough without drawing attention to the sordid details. I take a deep breath and let it pass. The important thing is get out of here without making any promises about doing this again. It is inevitable – once started down this path I won't be able to refuse, but the longer I can put it off the better.

"I think I'll head off now, if that's OK with you." I keep my voice neutral. I'm not in a hurry to get away, oh no. Just saunter off casually, that's the way…

He's disappointed, I can see it. Probably wanted to have a second round and make it take all night, but I'm not feeling approachable and it must be showing. He concedes, "Sure. See you on the Bridge."

Oh God. How can I face the Bridge? The Captain? Never mind, that's tomorrow's problem. Tonight's problem is how to deal with Harry. I stalk out of Chakotay's quarters and head for Harry's.

* * * * * * * * * *

I arrive in Harry's quarters and he's asleep. I check the time. It's only 2330. It didn't take very long, and I had expected Harry to still be awake, maybe even still up waiting for me. He always likes to read in bed, says it helps him wind down, and he would usually be awake at this time if he doesn't have an early shift the next day.

I peel out of my clothes and climb in next to him, snuggling up behind him and curling myself around him. I'm taller than he is, so we both like to sleep this way, spooned together in full body contact. I'm a bit surprised to notice that he's wearing sleep pants – we haven't bothered with them for months. I throw one arm around him and hug him close, burrowing my nose into the back of his neck with a light kiss and prepare for sleep.

I am therefore completely taken by surprise to hear him ask me, "Did you come here straight from the Commander's bed?" Obviously he wasn't asleep at all.

I roll over onto my back and sigh. "Yeah. Sorry to wake you, I thought you'd still be up when I got here."

His voice is cold, chilling. "So it was just a quick fuck then, and you came straight back to me afterwards."

"Er, yeah. I had a shower first."

"Well *that* makes it all right then…" He still has his back to me, but I'm getting a horrible sinking feeling in my chest. I think he's disgusted with me. I think he doesn't want me any more. He probably thinks I'm a dirty whore and scum of the street, and doesn't want to touch me.

I decide to test my theory, "So, Haz, want me to suck you off?" This is one of his favorites, but I don't do it too often – reminds me of the bad old days. Usually an offer like that would have him pushing my head down before I can finish saying it. Now he doesn't even roll over to look at me.

"No thanks. I know where that mouth has been."

Shit, shit, shit. He thinks I'm too dirty, too used and he doesn't want me any more. He doesn't want me to please or pleasure him with the same mouth that Chakotay kissed.

It breaks my heart, but I have to ask him, "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"Yes." He's still not looking at me, and his voice is low pitched and flat. He must really hate me.

"OK, I'll see you on the Bridge tomorrow."

"No, I'm taking a personal day. I'll use it to collect all your personal stuff and beam it to your quarters. You won't need to come back here again." He can't even stand the sight of me long enough to hand over a box of personal items?

I gather up my clothes and pull them on without looking. I think my shirt is inside out, but it doesn't matter. I can't see clearly and I feel sick and dizzy. I did this for us, for Harry and me, so that we could be together and be safe. Doesn't he understand that? I did it because I love him so much – it would have been easier to say no and let the Maquis beat us both to a pulp but I didn't want that to happen to him. I didn't want Chakotay to use his leverage with the Captain to bust Harry down to Crewman. His career is his life, and he still hopes to get back to the Alpha Quadrant – I couldn't let Chakotay kill his dream just to save my own ass a little more of the kind of usage it has had plenty of times before.

I take one last look at Harry's back. He's breathing deeply, quietly. I think he's fallen asleep again. God. He must think I'm lower than a dung beetle if he doesn't even care if I stay or go.

I go.

* * *

Harry:

Tom and I were together six months, exactly. Our relationship had been a secret as Tom didn't want anyone to know about us. I was hoping to change his mind about that. We met for an evening of pool in Sandrine's. I flirted with him increasingly obviously – I was dying for someone to notice and ask us something that would "out" us a public couple. I loved Tom so much, I hoped he wouldn't deny our relationship if actually asked point blank. He's older and more experienced than I am, but we're good together. I'm younger than he is, but I know my own mind. I might not be sophisticated enough to match him, but I'm a quick learner. My big fear was always that he would find someone older, more exciting and interesting, and leave me. Then, of course, that's exactly what happened.

We were playing pool, and from the moment Chakotay came in with some other Maquis guys, I could see that Tom was distracted. He and Chakotay have this *thing* going – Tom teases and Chakotay growls, and you can almost see the sparks of sexual tension flying off them. I don't know why they never got together in their Maquis days, but I can see that Chakotay still wants him.

So Tom was pretending to play pool with me, but was spending more than half his time glancing surreptitiously towards Chakotay. He was playing badly too, which should have tipped me off. Tom Paris only loses at pool if he's setting someone up for a major hustle, or when he's thinking so much about sex that he loses concentration. Since he wasn't hustling me, he must have been thinking about Chakotay. I'd like to say that he was thinking about *me* but that would be wishful thinking.

When Chakotay approached Tom, he whirled around instantly. Slut. He'd been waiting for this all night. Sure enough, he smiles and says to Chakotay, "What can I do for you, Commander?" Oh so casual, and as if the *world* didn't know what the Commander would like him to do… Then, he does it. He just goes for it and sticks his tongue down Tom's throat, right there in front of me! I think I'm going to throw up, I can feel a helpless jealous rage rising up inside me. I know I can't compete with the Commander – he's intense, mysterious, powerful and I know Tom can't resist a challenge. I don't know what their history was together, but I bet it was full of flirting. Tom's not exactly a hermit, and he's bragged about his experience often enough.

Chakotay's voice is low and tender as he confirms my worst fears, , "I've always thought we had some unfinished business between us from the Alpha Quadrant, you know. Let's go back to my quarters and discuss it."

Tom blushes, and I guess he's remembering the good times they had together. He's tongue-tied, and that never happens when he's with me. Finally he manages to get out, "Is this an order from the First Officer?" He's decided to play hard to get, and the rest of the Maquis have realized it too. There's a low murmur from their table, but they stay in their seats to watch the show.

Chakotay smiles slowly, "This has nothing to do with the First Officer. This is Chakotay from the old days talking now." Great. They're going to resume their relationship from wherever they left off, and Tom isn't even giving me a second glance. I should have known that as soon as the Commander crooked a finger at him, he'd drop me like a hot potato and go running after Chakotay. He's staring at Tom's lips where he just kissed them. "There's plenty more where that came from. So what's it gonna be?"

God, I can't believe it. Tom's thinking about it. He's going to chuck our relationship and our six month anniversary out the window for a kiss and quick fuck with Chakotay. I move up beside him, standing as close as I dare, but he doesn't look at me. Chakotay glances dismissively at me, but he knows I can't compete with him. Then Tom agrees to go with him back to his quarters, and we all know what's going to happen next. I'm just trying to work out something to say, when Tom kills me.

He turns around, and like we were strangers in any pub anywhere in the galaxy he flips me an offhand "Later," as he walks out the door. Chakotay's tongue is practically hanging out and he already has his hands all over Tom's back as they walk out together. The Maquis are laughing and hooting at them as they leave, but neither of them even seem to notice. Too wrapped up in each other to care. I wonder if they'll even wait to get back to Chakotay's quarters, or if they'll just fuck like dogs in the turbolift? Damn, damn, damn.

I try to retain a shred of dignity as I rack my cue and walk back to my quarters. Of course, it's even worse when I get there. Tom's vids on my shelf, Tom's clothes all over my living room, Tom's toothbrush and razor in my bathroom. I can't stand to look at them, to think that I was going to suggest moving in together tonight. Even though it is still early I go to bed and cry myself to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

I wake to hear Tom moving quietly around the bedroom. My heart leaps for a moment, then I remember. Then I'm angry. How could he do this? How could he run off for a quickie with the Commander and then come straight back here to me? Or is it even worse – does he think he can have both of us at the same time? I have some pride. I realize that I can't turn to face him or he'll see the tearstains and swollen eyes from my earlier crying jag. I don't want him to know how much he's hurt me.

He seems to think I should be totally OK with all of this. He snuggles up behind me, and his skin is still slightly moist. I hope he isn't still sweaty from his amorous struggles with the Commander. I can't help myself, I ask him, "Did you come here straight from the Commander's bed?"

He ignores my hostile tone and acts as if I should be perfectly OK with this. He settles himself more comfortably in my bed before answering. "Yeah. Sorry to wake you, I thought you'd still be up when I got here."

I can't believe him. He was tomcatting around and he seriously expected me to wait up for him? I have to ask. I don't want to know, but I ask anyway and he confirms my worse fears. "So it was just a quick fuck then, and you came straight back to me afterwards."

"Er, yeah. I had a shower first." Finally, he seems to be getting the message that I'm pissed off about this. He sounds uncomfortable, sign of a guilty conscience I hope.

"Well *that* makes it all right then…" I pour on the sarcasm, as he doesn't seem to be getting anything more subtle. I stay where I am, giving him the cold shoulder.

Next, he tries to bribe me. "So, Haz, want me to suck you off?" I'm tempted to accept. He hardly ever does that, even though he knows I love it. He tends to save it for special occasions, like when he needs to make up to me. But I'm not going to be distracted by sex. It must have worked for him before, but I can't weaken now. He'll play both of us if he can, and laugh at us both behind our backs.

I reach for the coldest, cruelest thing I can think of. I know it hurts him when I refer to his past as a rent-boy. That was long ago, before he met me and I don't hold it against him, but I know it is a cheap shot which will hurt him so I say it. "No thanks. I know where that mouth has been."

He goes quiet at that. I think he's finally realized that I'm serious. I won't share him. He can be with me or he can be with Chakotay, but he can't have it both ways. I hope he's thinking about that.

He must have been because then, oh God, he makes up his mind and chooses Chakotay. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" It's a threat, a reminder that if he goes now he won't come back. I will be alone.

I don't care. I would rather have my memories of Tom than have to take him into my bed, still warm from loving someone else. So I decide to break it off clean, "Yes." I don't trust my voice for any more than that. If I say more, he'll hear the tears that are rising up in my chest and threatening to choke me.

Spitefully, he reminds me that I can't avoid him for long. "OK, I'll see you on the Bridge tomorrow."

I make a decision. I'm not going to let him do this to me. He will be fine – he was the one who wanted to keep our relationship a secret, presumably so that when something like this happened he could go back to normal and pretend nothing ever happened. Well, I'm not a slut or a Vulcan. I can't just turn my emotions on and off. I certainly can't face him on the Bridge tomorrow.

I tell him, "No, I'm taking a personal day." Then I realize what else I need to do to break this off cleanly. I can't face him, so my last act of love for him will be to help him move on. "I'll use it to collect all your personal stuff and beam it to your quarters. You won't need to come back here again." He won't be tortured by coming back to our shared bedroom, he probably won't even remember how many times we made love here. Anyway, that's all over now.

I can feel the heat of tears pricking behind my eyes again. Damn, I'm tired of crying over Tom. But I won't let him see. I take deep slow breaths and try to get myself under control, at least until he goes. He dresses quickly and leaves without another word. He's probably glad to get away from me without any more fuss or an emotional scene.

I hear the door slide shut behind him, and then I give in to my tears.

* * *

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Chakotay:

Tom is coming over tonight and I've made a special dinner for our one-month anniversary. I know it's a little silly to celebrate one month together, but I also want this to be a night when we sit down and talk about our relationship. It isn't working, or not the way I want it to be. The sex is great, but that's all there is to it. We don't talk, we don't share our lives in any other way. Of course we have to treat each other professionally on the Bridge, but we don't chat in the mess hall, he's so distant if we meet in the gym or in Sandrine's – it's like this relationship exists only in my quarters.

Even in my quarters, it's like we just meet for sex. He gets my clothes off, and his own as fast as possible and then we're fucking like rabbits, and then he's gone. Sometimes we do it fast, sometimes we do it slow, sometimes in different positions and it's always great, but there's no loving cuddles afterwards or pillow talk. I had hoped he would want to stay the night after a while, but he never does and I haven't wanted to push him.

There's something odd about the sex too. Not kinky odd, but strange. He's so fantastic in bed it took me a while to realize anything was wrong, and even longer to work out what it was. He never initiates or suggests anything. Never. He participates eagerly and enthusiastically in everything that *I* want, but he never says what *he* wants. At first I thought it was just a 'First Officer' thing, and he was nervous in case I took suggestions the wrong way, but it's more than that.

It isn't just in bed either. He never comms me, never suggests we meet. When we play pool in Sandrine's he fleeces me of my rations same as anyone else, but never suggests we leave early and come back to my quarters. I think there's something about our relationship that he's unhappy about, but he's afraid to tell me. Does he think I can't handle disagreement? That I'll leave him if he expresses any difference of opinion to mine? I'm not Janeway, I can listen to other people's suggestions – I just have to convince him of that.

So this is what tonight is about. I've invited him much earlier than usual so we talk before we head to the bedroom. I've arranged a feast of dishes I know he likes, and a special fruit drink that I hope he will like. I don't want either of us drunk tonight, we need our heads clear for this talk. I've set the table with candles and programmed soft music. Maybe I should have done this earlier – made it clear that I want romance, the whole box and dice. I know not all men go for that, and I didn't want him to think I was sappy, but what we have now is the opposite extreme. It's a parody of a relationship. I can't be happy unless he's happy too, and I can't make him happy if he won't open up and tell me what he wants.

Finally, the door chimes. It is 1900 exactly. I call, "Come in," and the computer releases the door to let Tom in, just as I pour a glass of juice. Tom hesitates in the doorway. I think I've taken him by surprise. I'm a bit disappointed to notice that he didn't dress up at all – he's just wearing his usual off-duty jeans and white shirt. It looks good on him, but I was hoping for something a little more special. Still, I didn't actually *ask* him to dress up, so maybe he didn't realize what I had in mind.

"Um, am I early?" He's still standing in the doorway, looking at the table.

"Right on time," I reply with a smile. "Juice? It's a blend of my mother's favorites."

"I'd rather have a beer."

Oh. Well, one beer won't make him drunk. I go to the replicator and request a beer, synthehol of course. I know Tom's history and I wouldn't tempt him with the real stuff. I hand him the bottle without a glass, which is how he prefers it. I've watched him in Sandrine's and I know that he likes it cold and straight from the bottle.

He takes a big swallow and looks around at the romantic ambiance I've created for us. He's still standing in the middle of the floor, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize what you had in mind. I've already eaten." He shrugs. "We've never had dinner before – I just figured you wanted me here earlier than usual."

I'm kicking myself. Here's something else I never noticed, but as soon as he mentions it I realize that it is true. We don't have dinner together. I mostly eat at my desk while finishing up reports, and by the time I comm him it is too late for dinner. I struggle on regardless, and invite him to sit down. He'll probably have something, since he is lucky enough to have one of those metabolisms that allows him to eat what he likes and stay slim. Anyway, I still need to eat and sitting at the table is a better way to foster talking. I have a feeling that if we sit on the couch we'll end up in the bedroom before any serious discussion can get under way. So I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice as I say, "Sit down anyway and keep me company. You might find something to tempt you to a snack."

He looks at the table without enthusiasm, then his eyes widen as he realizes that I've got everything he likes. I take a quick bet with myself as to what he'll go for – yep, the pizza. For the first time he looks really eager as he throws himself unceremoniously into a chair and grabs a slice. I'm glad he's relaxed enough to be comfortable as he helps himself and eats with his fingers. He rather self-consciously tucks a napkin into his shirt collar, which is not a bad idea considering the amount of tomato sauce on the pizza. I didn't realize he was so fastidious about his clothes, but I guess you can't look as good as he does without making a bit of an effort.

He eats for a while in silence, and I realize that it is going to be up to me to get this conversation rolling. "I've been thinking about us." Not a highly original opening, I realize. "I feel like we spend all our time together ripping each other's clothes off and leaping into bed. The sex is great – you're fantastic, as I'm sure you know." He murmurs something noncommittal. "But I think we should branch out and get to know each other's interests, spend some quality time together doing other things, talking, you know… You don't have to stay the night here if you don't want to, but I really want us to do some other things together than just have great sex…" That last bit was a joke, but I think he missed it.

Sure enough, he starts guiltily when he realizes I am waiting for a response. "Um, give me that last bit again?"

I give him the short version. "I think we should do more of this kind of thing." I gesture at us, sitting, having dinner and talking. Well, I'm talking and I hope he's listening.

"OK, sure," he says agreeably. "Dinners particularly, or other stuff as well?"

I'm glad he understands and agrees that we should spend more time together, but I didn't have a lot of specific activities in mind. I just thought we would share the kinds of recreational activities we already do. I know he's into holoprogramming, so that's a good place to start. "Oh, you know, maybe some time on the holodeck as well. A variety of things, you know?"

He frowns, and I start to feel anxious again. Am I asking for too much? I'm still very aware of the power inequality in our relationship, and I don't want to be the 'Commanding Officer' all over him. He should be free to say what he really feels.

"I don't do restraints," he says, finally.

I am shocked. I don't know whether he thinks this relationship is all about sex, or if he thinks that I only want him for his admittedly gorgeous body. Either way, this has to end. I hasten to clarify, "Of course not! I was thinking more about walks in the woods, strolling on the French Riviera, revisiting old haunts in Marseilles – that kind of thing."

"Oh, that's fine." He smiles at me. I find myself smiling back, and I reflect that it isn't often I see him simply happy. He's a reserved man and doesn't show his emotions plainly. I want to know him better, and a good way to start would be by letting him show me what he likes. I really want us to get past this relationship revolving around *my* desires. I know it sounds like a fantasy to have someone at your beck and call who wants to do anything and everything you want to do, but it makes for a very unbalanced relationship. I want there to be more give and take between us as we do activities together so I ask him, "Do you want to choose the first one?"

He looks taken aback. Damn. I didn't realize I was dominating our relationship so much that a simple offer to let him choose how we spend a day together would come as a shock. "You want me to surprise you?" He looks like he's getting used to the idea, maybe even coming around to like it. If he wants to surprise me, that sounds like a great idea. I grin at him, wondering what he has in mind, something adventurous probably. He's got a little smile on his face that suggests he's thinking of something to test my limits.

Then his smile shifts to something a little more calculated. "So, now that we've settled that, is it time for dessert?" He raises one eyebrow. I agree that we've done enough talking for one night, and I think we've made some positive steps. Now we can get to the part that he's always so keen on. I stand and lead him into the bedroom.

Unfortunately, the romantic atmosphere of the dinner table doesn't appear to translate into the bedroom. Tom is his usual efficient man of action, and it all passes in an erotic blur. He's sucking, he's riding, I'm coming – then it's over and he's off in the shower. I check the time and sure enough, it isn't even 2000. I think the longest we've ever taken to make love is about twenty minutes, but it's usually closer to ten. We both come, in fact he usually comes before I do, and I presume he likes it like this. I admit that I had been hoping for something slower, more sensual. It doesn't always have to be quite so hot and fast, does it?

Wait, what's that? I do notice something different tonight after all – he's whistling in the shower. He's happy. Thank the spirits, I'm relieved. I was worried that trying to press for change in our relationship would scare him off but our talk does seem to have done some good after all.

He comes out of the shower after his usual super-fast scrub down. I wonder again how he does that. He gives a whole new meaning to the term 'super-sonic' by showering faster than the speed of sound. I tuck that gambit away in my mind to use later. He's still smiling, which I like. "Hey, do you want some real dessert? I've got chocolate cake."

His smile widens even more, "Chocolate cake? My favorite!" He heads directly for the table and I hop into the shower – I might even whistle a little myself.

But I don't feel nearly so sprightly when I get my robe on and go out to the living area to find Tom has already gone. He didn't wait for me? The chocolate cake has been cut and it looks like he's managed to eat an enormous piece while I was in the shower, but he's gone. He left a slice out on a plate for me, but it isn't the same.

I sigh. It is too early to go to bed, but I don't feel like getting dressed and going out again. I make myself some tea and sit down with a few reports. Maybe I'll get ahead on the latest crew evaluations. Somehow, I'm not in the mood for cake after all.

* * *

Tom:

Chakotay commed me during the day today and asked me to come to his quarters at 1900 tonight. I can't decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe he just wants an early fuck and then go out for the evening – that would be a good thing. On the other hand, maybe he wants a whole night fuck-fest. That would be a bad thing. He's hinted often enough that he would like me to stay for a second session, but so far I've always managed to avoid getting the hint and he hasn't pushed the issue.

Actually, he hasn't pushed as much as I thought he would. He only tends to call me a couple of times a week, and the rest of the time he leaves me pretty much alone. This arrangement seems to suit us both. If only I could get Harry to look at me again, I could live with this.

But tonight breaks the pattern, and that freaks me out. Something different is going to happen. There's no point worrying about it though, since it isn't as if I have any real choice about going. All the same reasons that I had for agreeing to this arrangement still apply.

So 1900 on the dot finds me ringing Chakotay's doorbell. I hear him say, "Come in," and the door opens. I'm surprised to see the table set for dinner, candles, soft music, the whole shebang. I wonder if he's expecting the Captain for dinner? Am I early? Well, only one way to find out what he has in mind, so I ask, "Am I early?"

He's standing by the table pouring himself a glass of juice. It looks like some kind of carrot juice. Ick. "Right on time," he replies. He holds out the glass with a smirk – he obviously knows how I feel about carrot juice. "Juice? It's a blend of my mother's favorites."

I'm not sure how to interpret the mention of his mother in what is obviously a seduction scene, so I let it pass and restrict myself to answering the question. "I'd rather have a beer."

He shrugs and takes a swig of the juice himself before going to the replicator and getting me a beer. Synthehol. Shit. I was hoping he might get me a real beer. He has the access to do it but he's too cheap to waste the rations on me, I guess. He doesn't even bother to offer me a glass, so I swig it straight from the bottle which is rather out of place in this elegant setting – not that it matters, really. It isn't like this is a real date, even if he has decided to go for the "boyfriend experience" for a change of pace. Damn – this means it really is going to take all evening and I won't get to Sandrine's to see Harry after all.

Still, he never warned me about it, so I can get a cheap thrill in thwarting him in the little details. He can't legitimately complain. I'm not dressed for this, I'm drinking beer from the bottle, and now I'm about to kick him while he's down. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize what you had in mind. I've already eaten." This is, in fact, true. I carb loaded before I got here guessing that I'd need the energy if this really was going to be an all nighter. I shrug casually. "We've never had dinner before – I just figured you wanted me here earlier than usual." I take a spiteful delight in the disappointment on his face.

He's determined to stick with the script though. He only says, "Sit down anyway and keep me company. You might find something to tempt you to a snack."

I look over the table. No kidding. He's got a selection of great food including pizza, which I can eat at any time. Well, they're his rations, if he wants to play it this way I may as well enjoy it. I'm sorry now I wasted my own rations on a big bowl of pasta. Chakotay sure can put on a good spread. I plunk myself down at the table and help myself to a slice of pizza with my fingers. He doesn't wince, so I decide to push it and tuck a napkin into the neck of my shirt.

I'm the son of an Admiral. I've been to more formal dinners than any other three officers on Voyager, Captain Janeway included. I'm sure I can think of enough faux pas to wind Chakotay up as thoroughly as I ever did on the Bridge. The best part is that if he wants to stay 'in role' he can't even take issue with it! This is going to be fun.

He starts the conversation with, "I've been thinking about us…" Yawn. I amuse myself by planning a series of unacceptable events for the dinner table as Chakotay yaps on for a while in the mode of sentimental wooing. Belching, definitely. Laughing at my own jokes, naturally. I could even snort my drink through my nose. On second thoughts it's beer, so maybe not. Should I lick my plate, or would that be going too far? Then there's a pause, and I realize he's asked me a question. "Um, give me that last bit again?"

He patiently repeats what he's apparently just said to me while I was scheming. "I think we should do more of this kind of thing." He waves his hand around at the role play setting of the intimate dinner.

"OK, sure," I reply. This will take more time and acting on my part, but will probably lead to less fucking overall, so it's fine by me. Anything that keeps his hands off me and dick out of my ass is a plus from my perspective. "Dinners particularly, or other stuff as well?"

"Oh, you know, maybe some time on the holodeck as well. A variety of things, you know?" He's being a little vague. I frown. I don't want this to turn into something really kinky – I've never been into that shit. I need to draw some lines here.

"I don't do restraints." I tell him flatly.

He looks genuinely shocked. "Of course not! I was thinking more about walks in the woods, strolling on the French Riviera, revisiting old haunts in Marseilles – that kind of thing."

"Oh, that's fine." I am relieved, but I had to be sure. The Marseilles thing could be some kind of seedy fantasy, but the rest sound OK. One of the first things you learn when you start turning tricks is to be up front and explicit about what the deal involves. Since this is a protection racket I can't exactly charge extra for the frills, but I can certainly refuse to be hurt – that's the whole point of this exercise in the first place.

He smiles at me seeming happy with my consent, not that he needed it. Then again maybe he does. Not all professionals do the whole 'acting' thing, and not all do it well. I do both, and in some ways I even prefer it to straight sex. It's all pretending anyway so if a mark wants to pretend we're buddies, lovers or doctors and nurses, it's all the same to me. Walking, holding hands and chatting is easier than bringing myself to orgasm with a mark. Role play with words is much less demanding than acting a lie with your whole body.

Then he says something that really catches me unawares, "Do you want to choose the first one?"

"You want me to surprise you?" I ask. Well, he surprised me with tonight's game, so I suppose turn about is only reasonable. The kind who like surprising people often like being surprised themselves.

He positively grins at this, so I must have hit on exactly the idea that he wanted. I don't know why he didn't just say so. I've never understood why some customers are shy about stating their preferences. If I were the one paying a professional I'd damn well specify every detail and make sure I got exactly what I wanted with no hidden charges to bite me on the ass later, figuratively speaking. Then again, he's not exactly paying me by the hour so the usual rules don't apply.

Actually, this could work out really well. I can ask for a few days to set things up for him and he won't bother me until then. I've got heaps of holodeck programs already written, so I can just polish up one of those. Plus, this way I get to choose what *I* want. Maybe I can get him to go running and really tire him out? I drag myself away from these pleasant thoughts of the future and focus back on tonight. Let's get this moving and maybe I can still meet Harry later. "So, now that we've settled that, is it time for dessert?" I smile and tilt my head meaningfully towards the bedroom.

He can't wait – he grabs my hand and drags me towards the bed. I've got pleasing him down to a routine now. I suck him until he's so hard he can't stand it, make myself come and slick him down with it, then ride him until he explodes. Mission accomplished. I don't know why he doesn't replicate some normal lube, but he does seem to like watching me come and anything that makes it easier to get him off is fine with me. He's so hot tonight he won't be able to hold on long, and sure enough just a few thrusts with my hips and he's spurting inside me. Excellent job, if I do say so myself.

In the shower I plan the rest of my evening. I like this earlier meeting time, and it has all gone so smoothly it's still early enough to catch Harry in Sandrine's. He hasn't been very receptive lately, but if I have longer to work on him I might be able to convince him to come back to my quarters. Shit. I'm out of rations so I won't be able to offer him a beer or anything. I wonder if Chakotay would lend me some? I head back into the bedroom with my best smile plastered on my face.

Chakotay smiles back from the bed, and I'm about to ask him to lend me some rations when he says, "Hey, do you want some real dessert? I've got chocolate cake."

I respond with genuine enthusiasm, "Chocolate cake? My favorite!" This might be even better than borrowing rations. I can just take some of the leftover cake back to my quarters, and if things go well with Harry we can share it. If I serve it on plates he won't notice that it's been cut already.

I slice a piece of cake and put it on a plate, then change my mind. It will be easier to carry the cake in a box. I replicate a cardboard box and cut a big enough piece for two people to go in it. I'll drop it off at my place on the way down to Sandrine's. Fingers crossed, I can convince Harry to come back with me to help me eat it. He's a sucker for sweets, so it shouldn't be hard. I bounce out of Chakotay's quarters in anticipation of a good night ahead.

* * * * * * * * * *

I arrive at Sandrine's just before 2100. I decided to change into something more suitable at the last minute, so I've got on the blue silk shirt that Harry just loves on me. He says it brings out the color of my eyes which is shit because my eyes aren't anything like that deep blue, but whatever turns him on works for me.

As I stroll in, I spot Harry immediately. He's pretending to play pool with Chapman and Foster, but he's not concentrating. I'm afraid he's going to bolt as soon as I try to talk to him. He's been avoiding me like I carry some contagious disease, or like I'm some filthy whore – well, that's probably what he *does* think of me. I can't help it though, I still love him so much. I still want to convince him to come back to me, on any terms. I've tried begging him, I've tried seducing him, I've tried making him jealous by flirting in front of him.

The one thing I have left is something I've *never* stooped to before, and I hope he appreciates how vulnerable it makes me. Unsuitable as it is for me, undignified it is, I'm going to try the straightforward approach.

I approach the pool table and address him directly, no tricks, no seduction scene. I just try to tell him with my eyes how much I love him and need to talk to him. "Harry, we need to talk." OK, so it isn't brilliantly original or witty, but it has the advantage of being true.

The situation works in my favour for a change as Chapman and Foster are both Starfleet to the core. They are polite and more to the point, don't want to be seen with me. They slap Harry on the back and retreat as quickly as possible.

Harry gets a stubborn set to his mouth as he says, "There is no *we* to talk about. That part of your life is apparently over, so I'd appreciate it if you let me move on as well."

I can feel myself starting to plead again, even though it never worked for me before. "Harry, I want there to be an *us* again. I never moved away from you, it was you who pushed me away."

"*I* wasn't the one who left. I helped you move your stuff out, but you left me first – where do you get off saying that *I* pushed you away?" He's getting angry now. Shit. I was trying to avoid that. I didn't mean to sound like I was blaming him for our breakup – not everyone can cope with having a sex worker for a partner. Most people don't understand it's just business, like shaking hands or playing tennis with someone to get ahead. Anyway, Harry never gave me a chance to explain – he just kicked me out. Damn. Now I'm getting angry. Breathe, Tom. Smile. Get him back to your quarters. In a room with chocolate cake and a bed your chances will be ten times better than on the holodeck with the rest of the crew watching.

"Harry, we need to talk seriously and in private. Will you come back to my quarters with me? Just listen and you can leave anytime you want. I'll give you a cup of tea and chocolate cake and you listen, no obligation." He's weakening – it was the chocolate cake that did it. He's going to say yes. Yes!

"Fine. You talk, I listen, I leave – and that ends *any* obligations between us. Fair enough?"

Not quite the overwhelming assent I had been hoping for, but it's a start. "Fair. Let's go."

* * * * * * * * * *

We arrive back in my quarters, and Harry disdains sitting on the couch in favour of a stiff-backed dining chair with the table between us. He's going to make me work for it. Well, that's fine – I can work it pretty good when I have to.

I go over to the replicator and request a cup of the Vulcan spiced tea that I know Harry likes, and coffee for myself. The cake is already there, of course, so I cut the piece in half and put it on two plates. I take the food to the table and take a seat opposite Harry, not crowding him.

This coming clean thing is harder that I thought, but I manage to choke the words out, "Harry, I know you hate me and think I'm a dirty whore, but I still love you." God. There it is. I wait for him to say something. He stares at me for a moment, then returns his eyes to his plate. Come on Harry say *something*. Talk to me, give me something to work with. I can make you love me again, I know I can, just talk to me!

"I don't hate you." He finally says. Well, that's a start and I'm more relieved than I can say. But he doesn't follow up this statement with anything more reassuring, for example "I still love you too" would be favorite, but I'll settle for "I still want you in my bed."

There's a long pause before he finally goes for, "You hurt me when you left me for Chakotay, but if you really think we can work it out, I'm prepared to give it another try."

There's that blame thing again about me 'leaving' him. Doesn't he realize that I only went to Chakotay to protect him? To protect us both? Starfleet, my father the admiral and the Federation government couldn't protect me in prison, and Captain Janeway can't protect us now. We have to, I have to, make our own protection.

"I didn't leave you." I begin. He rolls his eyes, which annoys me. He seems to think this is some kind of technicality. What he doesn't seem to understand is that I would have stayed with him if he'd let me. I try to explain, "I didn't go with Chakotay because I loved him more than I love you. I don't love Chakotay at all."

He snorts, as if my feelings don't matter. "Yeah, well, if you're just sleeping with him for payment in short shifts and chocolate cake, that really doesn't make me feel any better about it, you know."

I can feel myself blushing, damn my fair skin. It doesn't let me hide anything. Harry can't possibly have known about the cake – that has to be a wild guess. It must have been, because he suddenly turns pale as he realizes what my blush means.

"Shit, Tom! You got this cake from Chakotay?" He spits out the half-chewed lump of cake in his mouth like it is poisoned. "How could you?"

Suddenly, I'm really angry. Or maybe I've been angry for a long time and have only just let it come to the surface. I'm doing everything I can, literally sacrificing my body to Chakotay's lust to keep Harry safe, and he has the gall to make jokes about me selling myself for chocolate cake?

"Look," I say to him, my voice low and vicious. "This is not funny. Chakotay threatened me, and threatened you! I agreed to sleep with him to stop him from breaking every bone in my body and busting *you* down to Crewman. You should be thanking me, not making jokes about it."

Harry's mouth falls open. He's just sitting there, staring at me. God, he's so naïve! He looks like he's never heard that Chakotay was a Maquis captain who knew and used every dirty trick in the book, like he has no idea what went on in the DMZ in what is laughingly called the 'good old days'. He finally manages to speak, "Chakotay? Blackmailing you?"

"Yes Harry." I sigh and close my eyes. "About twice a week for the last month."

Harry is silent for a moment, and I wait for the next obvious comment. Sure enough, "So why didn't you tell the Captain? This sort of thing can't happen on a Starfleet ship!"

I snort. God, he really is that innocent. Was I ever that green? Probably not. "Look, this isn't the Federation any more. Chakotay is the First Officer *plus* the Maquis are all personally loyal to him. He's probably the most powerful person on the ship *including* the Captain, and the only reason he hasn't taken over is that he couldn't get the Starfleet crew to cooperate to fly the ship home. As long as we're in the Delta Quadrant he has no motivation for a mutiny. But the reality is that if he decides he's going to have a little fun on the side, no-one can stop him."

Harry looks horrified, and I need to make *sure* he doesn't go running to the Captain about this. If he did, Chakotay and the Maquis could really make both of our lives hell. "Look, Har, I'm only telling you all this so that you know I didn't *leave* you – it's pissing me off the way you keep saying that. I went to Chakotay to buy protection for us with the only coin I had. I would have come back and stayed right by your side if you didn't think I was a dirty whore and thrown me out of your bedroom."

Harry's eyes meet mine, and for the first time since he came into my quarters, I allow myself to hope.

* * *

Harry:

It has been a month since Tom left me for Chakotay. Oh, sure, I've seen him on the Bridge and he's even tried to corner me in Sandrine's but I haven't wanted to talk to him. I still love him so much, but he's not serious about me. Hell, maybe he's just not a serious person. I never would have said that before, but the way he just walked off and left me there with a single word, "Later." That moment is etched in my memory – I'll never use that as a farewell again.

The odd thing is that he doesn't really seem to be 'with' Chakotay either. They don't spend much time together, and their relationship on the Bridge is not only strictly professional but it doesn't even seem particularly warm. They sleep together about twice a week, but Tom never stays the night. I'm tracking the movements of my ex-lover to the point that I can tell you how often he has sex with his current lover. How sad is that? I get some kind of sick satisfaction from the fact that he can't hold Tom all night like I used to.

Tom's and my relationship was more of a real thing, more of an emotional connection than his series of affairs with Chakotay. That's a funny word for my mind to choose "real". I turn it over in my thoughts, and it feels strangely right. I had more of the *real* Tom than Chakotay does, so far at least. Somehow that makes it worse. Tom threw me away for meaningless sex. Though, I suppose to be strictly accurate I was the one who threw our relationship away when it became clear that Tom wanted it both ways. He wanted to screw Chakotay and then come home and sleep with me. Sex with one man, love with another. Now who's the sick one?

So I've been trying to put Tom out of my mind by working too hard and playing too much pool. I learned more from Tom than I realized, and I've been cleaning up. Tonight I'm wiping the floor with Chapman and Foster when Tom walks in. I know immediately when he enters a room, something about the sound of his walk – I would recognize it anywhere. I don't look at him directly, though I see out of the corner of my eye he's wearing that blue shirt I love so much. I love him in that shirt. I love him. Shit. There was a time that I wouldn't talk like that, even in my private thoughts, but Tom has been an influence on me in lots of ways.

I stare down at my hands as I make my shot, and they're shaking so much that I fuck it up completely. Great. Now I look like a patsy as well as a dumped ex-lover. Tom comes directly over to the pool table, and I continue to avoid looking at him. Tricky, since it isn't my turn, but I stare at the table anyway. "Harry," he says, and his voice is low and serious like I've never heard it before, "we need to talk."

It's been a month, already. *Now* he decides we need to talk? On some level I know I'm being unfair, that he's tried to talk to me before and I haven't wanted to, but dammit, if he really wanted to talk to me he would have worked something out. Anyway, I have some pride. He can't leave me hanging for a month and expect me to jump when he snaps his fingers, like some kind of eager puppy. So I say, "There is no *we* to talk about. That part of your life is apparently over, so I'd appreciate it if you let me move on as well." That hurt him, I can see it in his eyes. Good.

"Harry, I want there to be an *us* again. I never moved away from you, it was you who pushed me away."

How dare he? After the way he betrayed me, walked off without looking back? How *dare* he blame me for this mess he's made of our relationship? "I wasn't the one who left. I helped you move your stuff out, but you left me first – where do you get off saying that *I* pushed you away?" Another point to me. He's hurt now, and starting to get angry.

But I'm interested to see him take a deep breath and try again. Hell, maybe the man *has* learned something after all. He's doing a surprisingly good impression of a mature and adult human being who knows he's made a mistake. Maybe he really does want to try to work this out?

He says, "Harry, we need to talk seriously and in private. Will you come back to my quarters with me? Just listen and you can leave anytime you want."

Well, well. Serious talk, no flirting. Listening rather than covering up problems with sex. Amazing. Of course, he can't leave it there. He adds, "I'll give you a cup of tea and chocolate cake and you listen, no obligation."

Tom being serious, Tom talking and working things out – this I have to hear. But I can't look like I'm giving in too easily. I agree, but cover my dignity with some tough talk. "Fine. You talk, I listen, I leave – and that ends *any* obligations between us. Fair enough?"

He agrees immediately. "Fair. Let's go."

We don't talk as we walk back to his quarters. I don't know what he's thinking, but I know I'm remembering the many other times we made this same walk, and how many times we ended up in bed together at the end of it. Sometimes we were happy, often we were tired, sometimes we were totally hyped after a hoverball game or an episode of Captain Proton.

Usually we just crashed on the couch or in the bedroom as soon as the doors open, but this time I want to show him that things are different. That I expect serious talk, not a quick fuck. I make a conscious decision to sit at the table instead.

He's nervous. He goes to the replicator and makes coffee for himself and tea for me. He fusses for ages with some cake and finally gets it arranged the way he wants it on two plates. I don't know why he didn't just replicate it that way in the first place. He sits down opposite me at the table. That's a good sign, I think. No distracting hand on my thigh under the table or knee pressing into mine. He really is going to do the serious sorry talk thing. I'm just forming up a nice speech about giving him one more chance, when he really does shock me.

"Harry, I know you hate me and think I'm a dirty whore, but I still love you."

I stare at him, my thoughts spinning. Then I have to look away from the raw hurt in his eyes. How can he think I hate him? He left me, betrayed me, and still I love him so much I can't sleep on his side of the bed. To be honest, I don't sleep well at all anymore. I still wake every morning reaching for him. Still turn around after making a good shot at pool to see if he saw it.

He's staring at me, and I realize that I haven't actually said anything. I swallow the rather dry piece of cake in my mouth, unless it is my dry mouth and not the cake that's the problem, and I finally manage to say, "I don't hate you." He looks pleased, but still uncertain. I want to reassure him. "You hurt me when you left me for Chakotay, but if you really think we can work it out, I'm prepared to give it another try."

He gives me that same old knee jerk reaction again, "I didn't leave you." God. I don't want to get into the whole you-started-it thing. I'm about to point out, once again, that sleeping with Chakotay counts as leaving in my book, even if I did have to move his stuff out myself. He must have realized what I was about to say because he gives an irritated wave of his hands. "I didn't go with Chakotay because I loved him more than I love you. I don't love Chakotay at all."

Oh really? So you *did* leave me for meaningless sex? I can't help a sarcastic response. "Yeah, well, if you're just sleeping with him for payment in short shifts and chocolate cake, that really doesn't make me feel any better about it, you know."

He stares at me, then blushes, and I realize that my semi-random remark has hit a nerve.

"Shit, Tom! You got this cake from Chakotay?" I can't believe it. He's feeding me sweets given to him by his other lover? I think I'm going to be sick. I manage to spit my current mouthful into a napkin without emptying my stomach completely, although that suddenly sounds like quite a good idea. "How could you?"

His blush deepens to an angry red, and he hisses at me, "Look, this is not funny. Chakotay threatened me and threatened you! I agreed to sleep with him to stop him from breaking every bone in my body and busting *you* down to Crewman. You should be thanking me, not making jokes about it."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Chakotay? Blackmailing you?" I think my mind has melted down completely.

Tom just sighs and says, "Yes Harry. About twice a week for the last month."

"So why didn't you tell the Captain? This sort of thing can't happen on a Starfleet ship!"

Tom snorts, and gives me a short lecture on the reality of life in the Delta Quadrant. Shit. Finally he concludes by swearing me to silence about the whole thing. Not a difficult thing to do – I'm so shocked I don't think I'll be able to speak for a week at least. Finally, his last words penetrate the fog in my mind.

"… I went to Chakotay to buy protection for us with the only coin I had. I would have come back and stayed right by your side if you didn't think I was a dirty whore and thrown me out of your bedroom."

Oh, no. Shit, shit, shit! From his perspective of *course* it looks like I kicked him out for prostituting himself with Chakotay. God, I even said something about it the night he came back to our quarters. Now who is the idiot? I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I look at him, and I can hardly see as I reach across the table for his hand.

"Tom, I love you. I don't think… that… about you, and I never did. I'm so sorry. I was hurt that you wanted Chakotay more than me. I wanted to hurt you back so I said things I didn't mean. Can you forgive me? Can we be together again?"

Tom smacks his hip into the corner of the table as he rushes around to take me in his arms, and I wince in sympathy. He almost whispers, "You don't mind me touching you?" He must have seen my answer in my eyes, because he doesn't wait for me to speak as he gathers me into his embrace. I sigh happily as I rest my head against his chest, where it belongs. Tom is slightly taller than I am, so we fit together perfectly when he holds me like this. He sighs as well, and we stand still for a moment, just enjoying the completion of being together after too long apart.

"Harry, look at me love." He pulls away from me a little and I can't help it, I whimper and try to burrow back into his chest. "Just for a minute, then I'll take you to bed and show you the best time in the Delta Quadrant." He quirks that little smile at me that I love, the one I can't resist, and I try to focus on what he's saying instead of just on him.

"We have to keep this a secret. If the Maquis know that we are together it will make you more of a target and give Chakotay more leverage against me. Promise me, love, that you won't say anything to the Captain or Tuvok and that we will be totally discreet about this."

I lean forward and kiss a line of feather-light touches along his collar-bone. "Anything you say, love. I'll pay whatever price you ask, as long as we can be together again."

He smiles, wicked and playful once more, "Any price?" he raises an eyebrow at me in challenge.

Suddenly, I realize what he has in mind, and I break away and try to run – too late. He tackles me around the waist and throws me over his shoulder. I pretend to struggle, just a little, not enough to break his hold. He carries me into his bedroom and throws me down on his bed, but even as my body sails through the air I realize that I'm not falling – I'm flying.

* * *

I think these guys have one more round left in them… TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

_I've actually got the final chapter of this fic almost finished, but I didn't want it to be over so I wrote this little scene to go in before it. It's just a little smut session really, so enjoy!_

* * *

**Chakotay:**

Tom commed me earlier today and set up a date for us on the holodeck! A real date! This is the first time that he has ever initiated a date for us, and I'm so glad he is finally make a spontaneous move of his own. It's a holodeck program he wrote himself for us, which makes me feel special. Maybe this relationship really is going somewhere after all!

Outside the holodeck I smooth down my casual clothes – I'm not in uniform tonight. I run a hand over my hair and pull down my cuffs. Then I realize I'm being ridiculous and stop fussing. I walk onto the holodeck and I'm struck dumb. I've never actually been to this place before, but I've heard about it. Beaches, lots of semi-naked people strolling around, the place is uncomfortably warm – is this Risa?

I wander over to the bar and gorgeous and far too young for me girl hands me a drink. This is the holodeck, so it is a mocktail of course, and she puts a ridiculous garland of flowers around my neck. Sigh. It's very cliched. I'm surprised Tom went for something so obvious, but if this is what he likes, well, I'm not going to criticize. I suppose I shouldn't have expected subtlety from someone whose idea of literature includes Captain Proton.

I lean on the bar and wait for Tom to arrive. I wonder what he has in mind for our date. Will he be wearing a suit and wanting to go for a long romantic dinner, dancing and a long night of pleasure together? That's what this setting suggests. Or maybe he has in mind something more active? A game of beach volleyball and a swim? He didn't give me a clue what to expect, he's planned it all as a surprise. I can hardly wait.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

**Tom:**

It has been a month since our "dinner date" in Chakotay's quarters when we talked about holodeck pretend dates. I've left it as long as I dared – to be honest I've been trying not to think about Chakotay when he's not directly in front of me. I know he expects some kind of holodeck "scene" but I can't be bothered to think of anything. I've been totally taken up with Harry and trying to be discreet.

Anyway, I realized that it has been a month already – shit, where did the time go? I quickly commed Chakotay and set up a holodeck date for tonight. I didn't have time to program anything new so I just got out one of the standard "romance novels" and fancied it up with a few quick personalization touches. I had a glance over the storyline – pretty bog-standard. I'm supposed to be some kind of "damsel in distress" and Chakotay gets to come to my rescue as the big bold hero, and then in gratitude I fall at his feet and we have sex. Basic stuff, but pretty damn effective if you work it right – which I will.

I dress in my best "walking sex" outfit: tight black jeans, crisp white shirt open at the front and bare feet. (Makes it easier to get the pants off quickly if you don't have to fuss with shoes and socks.) I presume he knows that Risa is all about playing games and making fantasies come true. I plan to act my heart out – this is kind of the fun part of the job. I'll scream and cry and carry on and work off some of the angst I've been accumulating over the past month. I think it will be cathartic.

I arrive at the holodeck just before our "appointment". I'm not going to dignify what I do with Chakoray with the title of a "date". I walk through the Risa scene to the gardens. It's a bit corny but I don't have time to write a whole new program. I check the additional corner I've programmed. Two benches in a secluded garden, perfect. I set an alert just outside the gate so I'll know when Chakotay arrives. I don't know how long it will take him to get here from the bar and I want the scene to be at exactly the right stage when he "discovers" us.

I look over my quick and dirty hologram of Lt. Ayala. Technically it is illegal to create holograms of Starfleet officers, but I couldn't resist. A little touch of home for Chakotay, to see one of his own crew attacking me. Should bring back some memories for him. He can't talk much more than a small script that I've given him but I don't think that will matter. I doubt he'll get to say much before Chakotay comes to my "rescue". It's been a while since I've let my acting range run to the limit – in a weird way I'm looking forward to it. I'm sure I haven't lost my touch.

I make Ayala sit on the bench and arrange his clothes and my own. I kneel down in front of him, and I'm ready. All I need is for Chakotay to walk in.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

**Chakotay:**

Where is Tom anyway? I've been at the bar for a good fifteen minutes now and I can't see him anywhere. I don't think I was _that_ early. I hope I'm not in the wrong place. I decide to wander down towards the beach. Maybe he's found a quiet little spot for us to do some skinny dipping or something. I think it would have been better if he'd left me a message at the bar, but whatever.

I start down the little pebbled path towards the beach, when my attention is attracted by voices coming from one of the little garden alcoves. There is an archway of leaves leading to a secluded spot with a marble bench for sitting – the perfect place for a lover's tryst. I can hear Tom's voice, but also someone else. Is he talking to one of the holograms? I frown to myself as I realize that Tom's voice is pitched higher than usual. He's agitated or upset. I stop just outside the garden gate and listen.

"No, please don't! Leave me alone!"

A deep male voice answers roughly, and I can feel the hairs on my neck rise as I recognize the voice. That is Lieutenant Ayala! As another Maquis he should know better than to impinge on my territory. Then my spine gets a chill as I hear what he is saying and the import of his words sinks fully into my consciousness.

"You little whore! You've been sucking off the Commander for over a month and now it's time to share yourself around. I've been patiently waiting my turn but I've had enough, so get down on your knees and show me what that pretty mouth of yours is good for. I'd like to see you choking on my cock, and that will stop you making any smart-arse comments. You better get it nice and wet because that's the only lube you're getting before it goes up your ass."

I make an involuntary fist and burst into the garden scene to see a nightmare being acted out in front of me. Lieutenant Ayala is sitting on another of the garden benches. His fly is open and he is forcing Tom's head down towards his engorged dick! Tom's face is streaked with tears and his shirt is ripped. He seems to have lost his shoes somewhere too, because his feet are bare.

Even as I storm across the garden towards them, Ayala's eyes roll back into his head as Tom takes him all the way into his mouth. Tom seems to be crying silently, with tears pouring down his cheeks as Ayala's erection is forced into his mouth. Ayala's hips thrust as he fucks Tom's face, so he doesn't see my fist approaching until I catch him under the jaw. I hit him hard enough that he crashes backwards off the bench and appears to be knocked unconscious. I couldn't care less.

I rush over to pick Tom up off the ground. He is sniffling and trying to pull together his ripped shirt. He looks up at me through tears, and his blue eyes have never looked more gorgeous and adoring than they do at this moment. I feel incredibly protective towards him as I gently scoop him up in my arms and settle him on my lap on the bench.

He throws his arms around my neck and says, "Oh God, Chakotay, I'm so glad you arrived just in time! I was waiting for you here in the garden when he came in and started saying horrible things about us, about _you_! And then he tried to kiss me, and when I refused he grabbed me and ripped my shirt and forced his tongue into my mouth. Then he pushed me down on my knees and he wanted me to… Oh God, Chakotay, he wanted to _rape_ me!" He broke down into sobs and was unable to speak any more.

I gathered him in my arms and rubbed his back and rocked him and tried to think of something reassuring to say. "Darling, it's OK now. You're OK. I'm here and I'll protect you. Let's forget about the holodeck and go straight back to my quarters." He nods eagerly, and I call for a site to site transport.

We arrive in my quarters with him still sitting in my lap. He relaxes into my arms, and I realize that I was right to take him away from that awful scene. I whisper in his ear, "Are you OK? Would you like a drink?"

He sits up and runs his hands through his hair. "Yeah, a stiff drink would be great." He seems to be recovering from his ordeal. I replicate a beer and give it to him. He takes a deep swallow and sighs letting his head fall back against the couch.

I'm torn. He looks so tired and traumatized. I want to take him in my arms and comfort him but I'm not sure that would be the best thing to do. Maybe we should reschedule for another night? Not a holodeck date, I don't think. Spirits, I don't know how this could have happened. The safeties must have been off. Although, come to think of it, I don't know if there is a holodeck safety switch-off for a rape scene. I'll have to write one. I only know a little about holoprogramming, but I don't want to ask for Tom to do this. He seems wrecked enough right now. I'll let him go back to his quarters and have a shower. I think he'd prefer that.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

**Tom:**

The scene went off beautifully. Chakotay came in spot on the moment when I was deep-throating the Ayala hologram and he went ape-shit and knocked him out in one punch. I'd forgotten that Chakotay boxes – it was a nice punch, I've gotta admit.

Then he tried to comfort me, and I climbed into his lap and I was just squirming and gearing up for some nice "my hero" sex, when he suddenly changed his mind. It just about gave me mental whiplash, but he called for a site-to-site transport to his quarters. Shit. If he didn't want to do a holodeck scene why did he tell me he did?

The ending of the scene is a total anticlimax. As the adrenaline rushes out of me I feel limp and weak. God. I was just gearing up for a long acting scene and some more crying and letting him comfort me and now it's all cut short. Ah well, the customer is always right. We can have regular sex in his quarters if he prefers that after all.

I must not be hiding my frustration as well as I thought. He asks me quietly, "Are you OK? Would you like a drink?"

"Yeah, a stiff drink would be great." I sit up straighter and try to pull myself together – the scene might be over, but the night isn't. I'm exhausted though, and not in the mood any more. Shit. As if I'm _ever_ in the mood to let Chakotay fuck me.

I take a long swallow of the beer. It's the real stuff. Nice. I sigh as I feel the burn of real alcohol entering my system. It's been a long time but the problem with being an alcoholic is that you never forget. If I can convince Chakotay to get me another beer I'll be relaxed enough for him to fuck me any way he wants.

Then he really does surprise me. "You look wrecked. Do you want to go back to your quarters for a shower?"

What? Is he going to let me off after all? Might as well take him up on his offer. If he doesn't want to fuck me tonight after all, I'm certainly not going to talk him into it. "Yeah, I'm pretty done up actually. Would you mind if I went?"

"It's probably for the best."

Shit. I have no idea what he means by that. I smile, pull my shirt together (pull my shit together) and leave. It's still early. Maybe Harry will be awake?

I leave Chakotay to whatever it is that he wants to do tonight after all and set off in search of Harry, and comfort.

* * *

_One more chapter to go! It's nearly done and I hope to have it up by the end of the week. As always, reviews are love! And if you want more than one more chapter of this you'd better request it before I put up the ending!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chakotay:**

Tom and I have been seeing each other for three months now. The sex is great, Tom is great and the relationship sucks. Despite what I thought was a promising beginning, we've only had a few walks on the holodeck together before sex. Even then, we didn't really talk. Dammit, I still feel like I don't really _know_ Tom. I get the feeling that even when we just walk and hold hands that it is all a set-up. We've done walks in the forests of Dorvan and then sex. We've done walks along the streets of Marseilles and then sex. We've done strolls on the beaches of Risa and then sex. The sex is great – but it's also not enough.

I love having Tom's body drive me out of my mind, but his soul is strangely remote. The mask of the careless and cocksure flyboy is just as firmly in place as it ever was. I was always sure that there was more to Tom than this. Now, I'm not sure if I was wrong about that and maybe he _is _just a shallow playboy with a pretty face? Or maybe there's more to him and he's hiding it from me for reasons of his own? Only one way to find out. I have to push him, catch him off-balance and get him to tell me the truth. I thought I could convince him to trust me with his heart, but it seems that isn't working. I have to do _something_. This situation is inherently unstable.

_####################_

**Tom:**

After three months, I finally feel like I have found the balancing point for this fiasco that I call my life. I see Harry in dead secret, and he's the love which keeps me sane. He holds me, reassures me, puts me back together when I fall apart. He's so patient and loving with me, and I know I don't deserve him.

Then there's the other side of my life – the hours I spend with Chakotay. The evenings that I screw up my courage and go let the First Officer screw me. I hate it more every time. I hate _him_ more every time he does me. He's a pushy bastard too – he wants more and more of my time and body. I can feel it in the way he looks at me, moves his hands over me. Shit. My hands are shaking now just thinking about it.

Deep breaths, Tommy, you can do it. You can juggle this – keep Chakotay happy, keep Harry in love with you, keep the Captain in the dark, keep the ship flying. You can do it, you can keep all the plates spinning and all the balls in the air. You can _make_ this situation stable, or at least static. Shit. Don't stop or your whole life will come crashing down.

_####################_

**Harry:**

I'm in Sandrine's just playing a few practice shots on the pool table and waiting for Tom, when Chakotay walks in. Shit. I feel so weird about all of this that I've been avoiding him. It's just unnatural – how could it be anything else? How can I possibly act normal around the bastard who is blackmailing my lover to get sex from him? This whole situation is totally out of control, and I can feel that any minute now it is all going to come crashing down. That might actually be a _good_ thing for Tom. Despite what he thinks, the Captain would never let the Maquis kill Tom or do him any serious damage. She would never let Chakotay use his influence to break us in Starfleet. It can't possibly be as bad as Tom thinks it is – his horrible past makes him think that no-one can be trusted, no-one sticks to the rules, no-one cares. I care so much, but I can't convince him.

I ignore Chakotay. Let my body language show him that he isn't welcome. I continue to sink the balls currently on the table, then re-rack them and break again. I'm concentrating so hard on turning my back to Chakotay that I'm genuinely startled when he sneaks up behind me and says, "Hey, your game has improved a lot. Has Tom been teaching you his secrets?"

I'm not sure how to respond to that. How much does he know about Tom and me anyway? I try to keep my expression neutral as I answer with a non-committal, "Not really. Care for a game?" Damn. Why did I say that? The last thing I want to do is to be forced into a "friendly" game with Chakotay. Fortunately, he doesn't take me up on it. He offers to buy me a drink instead.

Now I really don't know what to say. What is going on here? Is he trying to arrange some kind of sick threesome? Isn't it enough for him that he has Tom in his bed while I stay in my quarters alone and imagine them together? Now he wants me to join in his games as well? But if he asked me to, how could I say no? Wouldn't that seem like I was saying that Tom is a whore and does things that I would never do? And yet, how could I say yes?

Shit. I've been quiet too long. Chakotay goes to the bar and brings back two beers. He hands one to me and indicates that we should sit in one of the booths. I have no choice. I have to go along with this and hope that he just wants to talk.

_####################_

**Chakotay:**

Harry is nervous as he slides into the booth, and even though I've given him a beer he doesn't seem to be taking this as a social occasion. I wanted him to be relaxed and for us to have a normal conversation. Tricky, since I hardly ever speak to him off the Bridge. We don't really have that much in common, and he's obviously waiting for me to tell him what this is all about. I might as well cut to the chase.

"It's about Tom." I say. Harry gives me a guarded look, which is not encouraging. Harry is Tom's best friend and I had been hoping that he could give me some information about how to make Tom happy, or at least how to get Tom to open up to me, but doesn't look like this is going to work. Damn. I wonder what Tom has been saying to Harry about me? I plow on regardless.

"I was hoping you could tell me what Tom likes to do in his spare time?" I ask, realizing how lame I sound as the words come out of my mouth. Great, now Harry is going to think that I know nothing about the man who is my lover. He's probably thinking that we spend all our time together in bed. Well, that isn't so far from the truth, and now I'm desperate enough to go looking for second-hand information I might as well wade in with both boots.

"Why don't you ask him, Commander?" Harry asks. He's putting me on notice that he's not giving anything away, and I'm beginning to think this was all a waste of time. Harry has clearly decided the same thing, as he's starting to look pissed off with me, at least, as much as he dares with the First Officer of the ship.

Then I decide that having come this far, I might as well push a little harder. Hell, I _am_ the First Officer of this ship – why not use that leverage for a change? I work hard enough for it. I lean towards Harry and lower my voice, forcing him to lean towards me to catch my words.

"Harry, it is in your best interest, and Tom's as well, to tell me what I want to know." I lean back, satisfied that this vague threat seems to have cowed him. He is suddenly looking very pale and I remind myself that he is still only an Ensign. I don't need to push too hard in order to get what I want. Delicacy, not force, will be my ally here.

I'm just thinking of a nice open question to get the information flowing, when Tom himself walks into Sandrine's. He immediately homes in on the two of us sitting in a booth, and his eyes flash with anger. Or is it jealousy? Surely he can't imagine I'm interested in Harry when I have him? He has no reason to be jealous. I stand up to welcome him into the booth next to me, but he practically spitting with rage.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Calm down," I say quietly. "There's nothing going on here. Harry and I were just having a friendly little chat. About you, actually." I smile at him, hoping he will be flattered. It doesn't work. He just stares at me.

"There is nothing for you to talk about with Harry," he says flatly. "If you have anything to say, you can say it to my face."

Damn. He seems to think I was going behind his back or something. Jealousy is usually a good sign in a relationship, but this doesn't seem quite right somehow. I try to keep very calm, even though I can feel the situation sliding out of control.

"If that's the way you want it, why don't we go back to my quarters and discuss things in private. Harry too." I nearly bite my own tongue. Why did I even say that? I don't want Harry there, this is complicated enough as it is. Still, Tom's eyes flash for a moment, and I sigh to myself. If Tom wants Harry there, then Harry can come. I stand up and lead the way out of Sandrine's without looking back. I know they will follow me.

_####################_

**Harry:**

I fiddle with the glass Chakotay has given me. I think it's real beer but I don't dare taste it. I need all my wits about me for this conversation. Chakotay stares at me, probably trying to psych me out, before he finally says, "It's about Tom."

Well, that's a whole shitload of trouble right there. What about Tom? Does he know about us and want me to leave Tom alone? Does he really think I'm going to spill Tom's secrets right here in the middle of the Holodeck?

"I was hoping you could tell me what Tom likes to do in his spare time?"

Oh God, he _does_ know about us! He's warning me away from Tom, shit. What do I do now? But wait, he's asking. If he's asking, then he doesn't know for sure. I should play for time and hope like hell that Tom comes in and rescues me. Play for time, right. So I venture, "Why don't you ask him, Commander?"

Straight away I know this was a mistake. Chakotay gets a dangerous slit-eyed look. He knows he could break me, physically and professionally. He could break Tom in even more ways. God, what are we going to do?

"Harry, it is in your best interest, and Tom's as well, to tell me what I want to know." Chakotay's voice is low and threatening and my mind is just filling with horrible ideas when salvation, in the form of Tom Paris to the rescue, walks into Sandrine's. He spots us immediately and I can see at once that he is angry. Well, so he should be! The deal is that Tom sleeps with Chakotay and Chakotay leaves us alone. Chakotay isn't going to get any more out of this deal, so he should just give it up.

"What the hell is going on here?" Tom snarls, and my face warms with delight. Tom would never confront Chakotay for his own sake, but for me he is fearless. This isn't going to be easy – Chakotay stands up to try to intimidate Tom.

"Calm down," Chakotay orders him. "There's nothing going on here. Harry and I were just having a friendly little chat. About you, actually." Chakotay smiles coldly at him as he says that. I can't believe the bastard has the balls to smile like that while threatening both of us at the same time.

But Tom is angry now, and won't stop even for Chakotay's threats. "There is nothing for you to talk about with Harry. If you have anything to say, you can say it to my face."

I want to applaud. Then Chakotay responds with a measured threat. "If that's the way you want it, why don't we go back to my quarters and discuss things in private. Harry too." Oh God. Maybe he wants to screw both of us. I can't do that. It is hard enough letting Tom go to Chakotay's quarters, but I've never been with anyone else. I can't, I simply can't. I sit paralyzed, as Chakotay walks out of Sandrine's. Then Tom grabs my elbow and hauls me to my feet and we stagger together down the hallway after him.

_####################_

**Tom:**

It has been a long shift and a long week. I'm supposed to meet Harry in Sandrine's but handover takes longer than usual. I'm not as coherent as I usually am. I think the stress is beginning to tell on my concentration. I go back to my quarters to change, so I'm running pretty late by the time I finally walk onto the Holodeck. What I see there makes me kick myself and wish I'd hurried. Chakotay has Harry backed into a booth and is interrogating him, or maybe making demands. I can't really tell what they are talking about, but Harry's body language screams of fear.

I half run up to where they are sitting and without waiting for anything else I leap in with both feet. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Calm down," Chakotay says, condescendingly. "There's nothing going on here. Harry and I were just having a friendly little chat. About you, actually." He gives me a sinister smile and I nearly back down. But no, it is one thing to whore myself out. Quite another thing entirely to let pressure be applied to Harry. The whole point of this arrangement is to protect Harry. If Chakotay makes this deal too difficult for both of us then screw him, this racket is over.

He seems to sense how angry I am, because rather than cause a scene on the Holodeck (very damaging for his role as First Officer) he commands us to follow him back to his quarters. We will have it out there. He stalks off without looking back. Arrogant bastard. He knows he holds all the cards and that we will not fail to toe the line. Poor Harry is frozen with fear, and I have to drag him to his feet. None of us say anything in the turbolift or as we walk to Chakotay's quarters.

As soon as the door hisses shut behind us, I launch my attack. "How dare you? How dare you pressure Harry behind my back? I thought we had an understanding! You can use me how you like, you can screw me, bite me, throw me down on your bed and fuck me through the mattress as often as you like – but you leave Harry alone! If you can't keep your hands and your threats to just one of us, then you'll have neither and we will ask Captain Janeway what she thinks of having a blackmailer and sexual deviant for a First Officer!" (That last part isn't really true, Chakotay isn't a sexual deviant at all. His tastes have been pretty vanilla actually, but most people are frightened of their sexuality or what they fear others will think of it, and besides it sounds good.)

Chakotay looks pale under his tan, and for the first time I think I'm getting through to him. "What do you mean, 'one of us'? I thought you and me, that was 'us'."

I roll my eyes and snarl at him, "Let's drop all the pretenses, shall we? You threatened me and forced me into your bed. You threatened Harry, and I know what the Maquis are capable of even on a Starfleet ship. You made me choose between being fucked or being beaten, and I like my nose the shape it is and my ribs unbroken thanks very much. I'll play the good little whore, just like in the Alpha Quadrant, as long as you stay the hell away from Harry. You touch him, you even talk to him and I'll blow this little racket wide open."

Chakotay looked like someone had punched him, and I took a moment to enjoy his stunned expression before taking Harry's arm and marching him out of the quarters. Score one to me!

_####################_

**Chakotay:**

Tom's words rang in my ears: _Blackmailer. Sexual Deviant._

All this time I thought we had a real relationship going. Not a good relationship maybe, but I thought I was working on it and he thought… Spirits, all this time he thought I was using him like the whore that he was back on Earth. I knew that he was damaged, but demented?

I was angry now. Well, if he thought I was the ball-busting Maquis captain, prepared to do anything to get my own way then it was time to take off the gloves and show him what I could do. That little episode on Monea – that could be massaged nicely to bust him down to Ensign. I knew Captain Janeway had been horrified by the actions of her little "reclamation project". It would be easy to convince her to bust him down to Ensign and probably give him a bit of brig time into the bargain.

Then he'd be sorry. Bastard. The two little Ensigns could have all the joy they could find in each other, and I could go in search of someone more worthy of my attention. Serves them right.

_####################_

**Tom:**

Well, it's over. And the ending was both worse and not as bad as I thought it could be. Thirty days in the brig was excruciating. All my fears and claustrophobia about being in prison notwithstanding, I survived.

Harry and I can be together openly now. The Maquis know that something happened between me and Chakotay, but since he obviously came out on top and then threw me away, they are satisfied that no further revenge on their part is needed. I've got all my limbs, no bones broken, and for the Paris luck, that's pretty much a happy ending!

So Harry and me are the two Ensigns on the bridge. It's funny that the Chief Pilot and the Head of Ops are both Ensigns, but hey, we are Voyager officers. Weird is part of the job.

**THE END**

* * *

_Well, I hope you enjoyed the journey! Reviews and con-crit (constructive criticism) most welcome! I'm not writing much in the Star Trek fandom at the moment, but if you liked this come over and read my Sherlock fics as well! Thanks for reading!_


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